


Change

by Allieverwas



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Hair, Haircuts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 10:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11273967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allieverwas/pseuds/Allieverwas
Summary: Isak and Even get a haircut. Angsty fluff.





	Change

**Author's Note:**

> Result of a writing prompt. And I decided to try writing in English for once. The result is my first ever attempt at fanfiction.

The water was starting to cool down, and Even only barely managed to wash away the rest of the soap before it went out. He usually showered quickly, but by now he had been standing here for almost 20 minutes. Trying to force the chill out of his bones. No more water left for the dishes. He had sworn to do them. He never did.

This had been a slow Saturday. He had still been in bed when Isak left for Jonas’ place. Had still been in bed hours later. Waking and sleeping. On and off. Got up at twelwe. Not a bad day. Not a black day. Just a slow, cold, unwelcoming day. A coke and smokes for breakfast kind of day. A day where everything felt stagnant. Even the new things felt murky and stagnant. The bed they bought last month. The colour of the walls. Even the goodbye kisses felt like routine.

But this was now. He knew the drill. Be awake. Shower. Clean clothes. Try to look good. Try to feel good. Pull the curtains. Let the light in. Eat something. Drink something. Take a walk. You will feel better in the evening, but don’t let it get to you. The moment you feel happy, you must go to sleep.

“Want me to join you?” Isak’s voice on the other side of the curtain. Of course he’d come home before Even had managed to get his act together. Before he was able to be truly happy to see him. At this point Isak’s presence just reminded him of his own inability to do the dishes.

“Out of water. I’ll be with you in a minute”, he mumbled. “How was Jonas?”  
“Good, I guess… nevermind. Need to eat something. See you in the kitchen.”  
And as Isak was about to leave the bathroom, Even caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. And the breath left his body

“You got a haircut?”  
But Isak had already left. Maybe he hadn’t heard him. And maybe it was for the best. He needed a short while to collect his thoughts. To not be annoyed that he hadn’t been warned. Isak couldn’t have known that this was a bad day for surprises. It was a bad day for things staying the same, sure, but it was not a good day for surprises.

He tried to remind himself of the fact that Isak had been complaining for weeks that his hair was getting long, and how he didn’t want to waste money on a hairdresser. When Even had suggested that he’d pay a visit to one of the cheap hairdressers down at Grønland, Isak had mumbled something about how Jonas considered it social dumping. As if Isak had ever cared about stuff like that. He had assumed that Isak’s reluctance hadn't had anything to do with money, and only a little with lazyness, had assumed it was because Isak knew that Even liked his curls, like his hair slightly long. Had assumed that he had been trying to goad Even into telling him how he really wanted him to look.

And Even would never do that. He didn’t want to have opinions on Isak's hair, clothes, style. Would never tell him to not get a tattoo, to not smoke, or to not change his hair. And he expected the same in return. They were in it for the long run, and he didn’t want their lives together to become a freeze frame of the way they had been back in December. He wanted them to grow. As individuals and together. Grow up together.

He tried to tell himself that a haircut wasn’t a big deal. Didn’t change anything. But the truth is that he really did like Isak's unruly hair. Liked how it always bounced back into shape. Liked the resistance the curls offered when he ran his fingers through them. Liked how it made him look. How it made him look soft, Even on bad days. Even when Isak retracted into himself, on the days he turned calloused. Hard. Even then it made him look soft. The truth is, it kind of was a big deal.

In the kitchen, the coffee maker was slurping, and Isak was shaking old breadcrumbs off of one of the plates. And Even didn’t approach him. Just watched him. Isak looked different. His hair had no shape to it. Just the same length all over, if a little shorter on the back and sides. A little uneven in the neck area. Maybe half a centimeter at the longest. And Even felt strange. It felt like looking at someone he loved, but it also felt like looking at a stranger.

And Even just stood there. Said nothing. Shoulder leaning on the doorframe. Watched those familiar gestures, the habits that never changed. Watched Isak prepare the food he always ate: One slice with cheese and ham, and one with jam and butter. If Even wasn’t home, and they were out of pizzas, Isak would eat this for dinner. Now he was was ignoring the dried stains of mackerel in tomato sauce on the plate, although it was bound to add flavour to his bread. The fact that Isak didn’t mention the dirty dishes made it clear that he had indeed realised what kind of a day this was. The feeling of guilt was almost physical. Slowly moving from the chest to the stomach area.

He watched Isak pour milk into his coffee. He used more milk than anyone Even had ever known. This was Isak. His hair made him look both older and younger at the same time, but this would always be Isak. And as Even pulled him in for a kiss, his fingers touched the stubble on the back of his neck.

“So...” Isak pulled back. Looked at him. “What do you think?”  
Even stroked his hair. Forward: Soft and smooth. Backwards: slight resistance.  
“It’s short...” Still nice to touch, but nothing to play with. Nothing to grab hold of.  
“Yeah.. I guess” Isak spoke slowly. He was looking at him. It felt like he was reading his face. “That bad, eh?”  
“Nah. Not really.” Even lied, tried to pull him in for another kiss, just to make him stop interpreting his reaction. “No, you look good. You always look good. Just surprised that’s all”  
Isak lifted an eyebrow  
“You know that I actually don’t care much about my hair, right? I know you like to tease me about it, but I don’t. I cut it about once a year, and then forget about it until the length is starting to annoy me.”

“Anyway. Jonas did it for me. His father’s had one of those clippers.”  
Even was going to kill Jonas.

But Isak looked happier than he had a moment ago. More relaxed. His ears were still a bit red. Was he embarassed by this? Had he been that nervous about what Even would think? But he smiled now. Shook his head a bit.  
“Just.. It feels so good. Nothing moving. You should try it some time.”  
“Yeah, maybe I will.”  
He regretted it before the words had left his mouth, but it was too late.  
“Been thinking about getting a haircut myself, actually.” No he hadn’t. “Maybe today is as good a day as any.”

He didn’t even know why he said it. Maybe it was a petty form of revenge. Maybe it was because Isak, unlike him, always gave very specific compliments. “I like the way you did your hair today”. That kind of compliments. And he knew that Isak really, really liked his hair. When it was clean and unstyled, like it was right now, he liked to touch it, run his fingers through it. When he took care to style it well, Isak always wore one of those proud smiles. One of those “that guy is mine”-type of smiles.

“You serious?” This time is was Isak's turn to pull him in. His hands in his hair. His nose against his.  
“Yeah. better do it before I get a tan line, right?” His fingers traced the back of Isak's neck, just slightly paler than the rest of him. The top of his ears, still warm.

“But I like your hair the way it is” Isak’s voice was flat now. And Even felt his determination grow. Of course he wanted Isak find him beautiful. But sometimes they both needed room for change.  
“Well, I liked yours too”, he wanted to say, but he managed hold it in. “Care to join me?”

And as the door of the flat smacked shut, it was to late to back out. He tried to keep the conversation flowing. The 20 minutes on the tram from Ullevål to Grønland went agonizingly slow. Slow day. Slow tram. But Isak was close. He was warm, although he only wore a teeshirt in the premature summer weather.

***

Even didn’t have an answer ready when the barber asked what he was after. Just stared at his own reflection in the mirror. A nervous face with wide eyes over the black cloak. He hadn’t thought this through at all.  
“Eh. Shorter.” he said, and as that wasn’t a real answer at all he added: “Whatever you think will suit me”

After that, everything went too fast. Way too fast, as is the case when someone know their craft. And judging by how quickly he worked those clippers, the barber really did know what he was doing. In the mirror, Even could see Isak, watching with poorly masked dread as the hair tumbled down the cape. And he could see his own appearance changing into something that would take time to get used to. The hair on his back and sides fading from very short to nothing.

When the clippers had been put away, and the barber was about to move on to scissors. Isak stretched out his hand and touched the area just behind his right ear. Slowly moved two fingers upwards, over the small bump that marked the end of his neck and the base of his skull. The touch was light, caressing an area of skin that had never been exposed before, that was not used to being touched. When asked for an opinion on how long he wanted the hair on top, Even couldn’t get the words out. He just shrugged. Left the control in the barber’s experienced hands.

***

Although the end result didn’t actually look bad, Even felt completely naked.

Maybe he hadn’t, if Isak hadn’t been looking at him as if he had just said something that was a bit too far out to be funny. The way his eyes were moving faster than they normally did. Smiling one moment, then averting his eyes the next, obviously embarrased. The way he didn’t mention the actual haircut at all.

Only when Isak had crossed the street, to go and get them kebabs, when Even was sitting alone, smoking in the middle of Grønlands torg, did he dare to actually touch his hair. The strangeness of it. The unfamiliar feeling of exposed skin rubbing against the soft fabric of his hoodie. The inch of hair left on top wasn’t enough to bury his hand in. And yeah. Isak was right. When he shook his head, nothing moved.

Watching Isak crossing the street on his way back, two kebab rolls in one hand, two coke bottles in the other, Even exhaled. Tried to throw his cigarette butt into the trash, but missed. Then took a deep breath. Steadied his gaze. Smiled.

“Lamb shawarma or falafel?”  
He grabbed the falafel roll, knowing that the shawarma was Isak’s favourite. Cleared his throat and was finally able to speak again:  
“So… what do you think?”  
Isak didn’t laugh, but he might as well have. His eyes were flickering.  
“I just can’t believe you actually went through with it. You hate it, right?”  
“Hate is a strong word, Isak” It was a weak attempt at a joke, but Even wasn't at all sure that it read as one. “But it’s... short, yeah”  
  
“Even. Seriously. You're pretty. You can pull off anything.” And Isak leaned over. Kissed his temple, slowly rubbed his lips back and forth. And it actually did feel good. Soft breath against skin.

“But baby. Next time. If you actually want me to stop you. You need to ask me to.”

.

**Author's Note:**

> Damn. That was my first ever attempt at writing dialogue in English.  
> Scary shit. I want to learn how to write stuff. Please tell me what I can do better. Any feedback is good. Really.


End file.
